


And All I Have Are Two Hands And A Noose

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Somewhere Between Kansas and the Open Road [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Missing Scene, Post-Season/Series 02, Protective Dean Winchester, SPN Heaven and Hell Bingo, SPN Shut Down Bingo, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester-centric, Short & Sweet, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: The hum of the impala was unexpectedly comforting as they drove down the long stretch of abandoned highway.Heaven and Hell 2020 Bingo Fill: AzazelSPN Shut Down Bingo Fill: Fate
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Somewhere Between Kansas and the Open Road [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698406
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	And All I Have Are Two Hands And A Noose

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after season 2 finale and before season 3 :)

The hum of the impala was unexpectedly comforting as they drove down the long stretch of abandoned highway. Sam knew he shouldn’t be surprised, had spent the better part of his childhood years falling asleep to the rumble of the engine and the white noise of classic rock in the background. 

Tonight, however, it seemed wrong that everything was so normal, that their car and them and even the fucking stars went on and on while around them their lives shifted and heaved with the monumental horror of what had just happened to them.

Sam had died. He didn’t remember it but still he felt as though he should…sense something missing. Instead, there was an incessant voice in the back of his mind, whispering and prodding at him that maybe…maybe he should have stayed dead. That same voice grew into a shout whenever he glanced over at Dean in the driver’s seat. 

His brother was quiet. Hadn’t said a word beyond asking him for a rag to wipe the blood from his face. Still, Sam knew him better then that, could see the way he gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline, the paleness and the trembling that hinted how close he was to loosing it, the adrenalin no longer masking his fear. 

Nausea and guilt churned in Sam’s stomach. The weight of Dean’s deal hung heavy around them, thickening the air with despair and desperation. Sam wanted to run, wanted to take every gun and knife in their arsenal and start hunting every damned demon he could get his hands on if only to release Dean from the deal, make it so he hadn’t given his life for something so pitiful and broken as him. 

Sam wondered, not for the first time, if maybe Azazel could have released Dean from his deal, if he would have accepted a trade. He closed his eyes, tried not think about it, about all the terrible things he’d do right then and there if it meant keeping Dean alive. After all, Sam was hardly better than Azazel, the demon’s blood ran in his veins and there was no way to bleed himself dry enough. 

“Sam?”

Blinking, he looked at Dean who seemed as though he was trying to decide how to save Sam from himself. It was a lost cause, their father had been right, he should have died a long time ago. Sam would do it right now, would take out his gun and blow his brains out in the field if it would save Dean. But he couldn’t, because now he was here and no matter what blood ran in his veins, he couldn’t do anything until he fixed this, made it right for Dean. 

“Yeah?”

“There’s a motel just up ahead, we’ll stop there for the night.”

Dean rarely asked his opinion on where they should stop, didn’t need to. Maybe he hated the silence more then Sam realized, “okay.”

Dean’s expression twisted but he didn’t say anything else, just sped them along faster until they were pulling up to a creaky motel, certainly bedbug ridden and falling apart in the worse way. Somehow fitting for how they felt…but the real attraction was obvious, a decrepit and seedy looking bar was attached to the side and despite how late it was, there were three motorcycles and five cars pulled up. 

Inexplicably, Sam felt relief swell inside him. Space was exactly what he needed right now, a few minutes to just fucking breathe around the sensation tightening his throat and heart. He found himself stepping out of the impala with record speed and collecting their bags while Dean looked on wearily.

“I’ll get the room, text you the number.” 

Dean nodded. He didn’t smile but Sam saw the relief in his eyes, the same one promising he’d stumble in drunk and incoherent in a few hours. Sam didn’t begrudge him that, simply hefted the bags and went to get their room. 

He was right. 

The carpet was stained a dozen mysterious shades and even the tiled floor the kitchenette seemed faded with ingrained dirt and sludge. They wouldn’t be taking their shoes off for anything and would probably be gone in record time tomorrow, but it would do. The walls proved to be a sickly green and the table creaked with strain as he dropped their bags onto it. 

It was still a refuge. 

Sam found himself staring at his reflection in the grimy mirror, trying to see the difference that Demon blood had made in him. He wondered if that was why he had grown so much taller then his brother, his parents, if he’d always been so lean and built muscle so easily because he was tainted with a demonic gene. 

Breathing shakily Sam willed the tears in his eyes to fade. Words bubbled up in his mouth, a prayer he’d said a thousand times when things became just a little too much to bear, only for him to bite his tongue harshly, stopping them. What good was prayer for a person like him? Someone whom a demon felt to be a worthy successor of hell.

Sam could remember a conversation he’d had a lifetime ago with Jess. It had been early in their relationship and her favourite thing the world was to smile at him with mischievous eyes and ask the strangest question that would come to her mind. They’d talk about it for hours. Usually switching sporadically between heated arguments and fits of laughter. 

She asked him once, what he thought about fate. 

Sam had laughed. Told her it wasn’t real. That the universe didn’t pick out everyone’s future, it would be too exhausting, too intricate, too ridiculous. He’d said it thinking about his family, about how he’d fought tooth and nail to escape the hunting life and find some normalcy, he’d done that, it hadn’t been decided for him. 

Now…well now he wasn’t so sure. 

Sam was right back where he started all because of a demon that killed his mother and then his girlfriend…because a demon though he was destined to be the perfect soldier for his war on earth. Sam wiped at his face, stared at his trembling hand and tried to erase that thought because if he believed it…well he was evil, there was no way out of it and he couldn’t purge himself of the blood…and what was he supposed to do? He needed to save Dean from his deal but then what? How was he supposed to live like this?

There was a buzzing from his pocket and Sam glanced at his phone. His shaking subsided as he read over the simple text again and again. 

** You need me, call. Be back soon **

Simple. Fate didn’t matter. Sam had Dean and Dean had him. They would be fine, and they would figure this out and then Sam would get to work fixing all of this. He needed to believe it because to believe anything else…well he wasn’t sure what led down that road. 


End file.
